


And it will be as quiet when I leave (as it was when I first got here)

by AntheaGunn



Category: Carmilla - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntheaGunn/pseuds/AntheaGunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is how you split whatever is left of all this.<br/>She'll take the pity, and you'll take the blame.</p><p>From the end to the start, in moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And it will be as quiet when I leave (as it was when I first got here)

**Author's Note:**

> After months in which I couldn't write anything, this thing came at me last night when I woke up at 5:30 and didn't let me go even though I was terribly sleepy. 
> 
> Carmilla and Laura's story, backwards.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Quote between parenthesis by Jeanette Winterson)

10.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You decided to meet at an old cafe in between the two (different) neighbours you have moved to, a neutral ground of sorts. The inside is old and cramped, lived, and you like it compared to the multitude of new coffee shops, all practically the same, that have sprung up across town in the last few years.

You sit towards the back of the room, at a small table nestled between an old jukebox that looks like it has been there at least since the 1980s', and a glass case with some nondescript sport prizes shining under the fluorescent light inside it.

Your heart aches when you think that this is exactly the kind of spot that you would have chosen a long time ago, when this hopeless, wonderful thing between you started, for a romantic date.

This is exactly the kind of place that Laura would have picked for you, conscious of your love for everything that is old and distant from what is perceived as trendy, and it breaks your heart that such a nice place will become the tomb of your relationship, the place where it officially ended.

You and Laura sit at opposite sides of the table, like the heads of two nations with a long history of violence who finally decide to meet in order to sign a treaty, and in a sense that's one of the best metaphors you can find for what your relationship has been like lately.

But when did this cold war between the two of you started? When did you become two antagonistic countries, your borders' walls as high as possible as not to allow the other even a peak at what's on the other side?

(I will explore you and mine you and you will redraw me according to your will. We shall cross one another's boundaries and make ourselves one nation.)

The dim lights make Laura's hair look a lot darker than they are. That is all you can concentrate about, the thought that if this is the last time you ever see her, the last time you can look into her eyes, you want to see her as she is, you want to bury your face in her hair as the sunlight makes them shine almost white, you want to observe every single one of the freckles on her nose, you want to map the moles on her arms as you would a new constellation that suddenly appears in front of your eyes.

You cannot stand how the shadows make every detail of her indistinguishable, like you went sightseeing and forgot your glasses.

You spend the next half hour discussing boring details about a house you have no intention of ever entering again and about things you bought together you have no interest of ever touching again.

After everything is said and done, you are almost out of the door when Laura's voice slams into you in the half desert bar.

“Carm...”

You feel like one of those sailors you used to read about in college, who got ensnared by the sirens' singing and lost their lives at sea.  
You can feel yourself crumbling already, your body begging to move towards the rocks that you know will be your death.

Her arms are suddenly around you and you can barely breath.

“Please,” she's whispering in your ear, “please.” She keeps repeating it and with every breath you can feel your resolution weakening, the desire to just hold on to her and never let go is making your head spin.

“Please don't go,” she's saying, and in your sorrow filled heart, she makes so much sense that the only thing you can say is “I have to.”

“No, please,” she mumbles into your neck, “we can still fix this, please.”

“We can't,” you tell her, because at least you know this is true. “I will never be what you need, Laura. And we can't keep doing this to each other.”

“No please, please,” she's shaking and you know she's on the precipice of one of her panic attacks. They don't happen often, but still you kick yourself because if there is one instance in which you should have known it would happen is exactly this.

As you move away from her hold, you cup both her cheeks and look straight into her eyes.

“Hey, hey, Laura, baby look at me.” You are making a scene, you realize, as from the corner of your eyes you spy the host and a few patrons looking at you strangely.

You don't care one bit.

“I'm here, I'm here.” You clear away the tears that have escaped with your thumbs, and you keep looking at her until at last you feel her stop trembling and her breath returning to normal.

“Just close your eyes baby, okay? You just close your eyes, Laur. Okay? Just keep them closed.” You cannot help but kissing her one last time, lightly, as you feel a sob escaping her lips.

Here is how you split whatever is left of all this. She'll take the pity, and you'll take the blame.

And she'll keep the friends who understand, and you'll keep the ones who don't, and you'll both have a brand new set of memories that you will not want to think about.

And you'll both go on.

You'll both be okay.

By the time she opens her eyes you're already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat at antheagunn.tumblr.com


End file.
